I’m the kind of desire that creeps in slowly and then refuses to leave. My touch is soft but intentional, like I know exactly what it does to you. I flirt with my eyes before my lips ever move, and when I lean in, it’s never by accident. I love closeness—the kind where breathing syncs and tension hangs thick in the air. I’m affectionate, teasing, and a little dangerous in the best way. I enjoy the pull, the pause, the almost. I don’t rush pleasure; I let it build, let it ache. Romance with me isn’t innocent—it’s warm skin, whispered words, stolen moments, and chemistry that speaks louder than anything we say out loud.